


Lock and Key

by surveycorpsjean



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Canon, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rare Pairings, Sexual Content, tanatsuki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7228768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together, they're two cogs that meld, the odds and ends meeting that never met before. </p><p>Despite what the world says, they were meant to be together. </p><p>Strings and all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lock and Key

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa im sorry, i've been working on this for so long i just;;; i love this rarepair

Tsukishima is the one who pulls the strings.

This comes as a surprise to no one.

Tsukishima is the one who has, so carefully, drilled little holes into Tanaka’s skin. He’s the one who has, with fine craftsmanship, woven translucent strings into Tanaka with steady fingers. He’s tied little knots- and pulled the slack tight. He pulls, and watches the limb move. He tugs, and watches him dance.

Tsukishima is manipulative.

This also comes as a surprise to no one.

Tanaka knew this; he knew his nature when he asked Tsukishima out behind the gym, a little taller in his third year, but still shorter by half a head. He knew, and Tsukishima knew, and the team knew- but it was still a surprise when Tsukishima said yes.

And now, Tsukishima holds his strings. He holds them in his hand, wrapped around his slender fingers.

He’s the brain behind the brawn, the puppeteer, the mastermind.

He watches, coolly, as Tanaka snarls at an opposing team. They’re punks, those Johzenji, and Terushima has only gotten worse in his third year.

Tsukishima watches until he’s no longer interested; he watches, until he says, “Ryuu,” cool, and soft, and Tanaka’s back straightens. Tsukishima watches, disinterested, as Tanaka slithers back to his side, wrapping an arm around his waist. Tsukishima tucks him into his side, cooing, softly, “Don’t waste your time.” He slides his hand around his head, and folds him into his arms, and Tanaka melts into him- even with all the onlookers.

And that’s when Tsukishima looks up- he looks over Tanaka’s head, unseen to his eyes, and gives those punks a glare full of swirling spitfire and burning heat from hell- and the Johzenji team jumps, frigid, and fucks off.

Tsukishima runs his hand across Tanaka’s shaved hair, this thumbs pressing down past his ears, and looks after the retreating third-years with unsaid words.

_Don’t touch my stuff._

Tsukishima is manipulative, but in his own way. He likes to poke, because he can- he likes to kick, to see what you’ll do. He likes to snap words that mean nothing to see if you’ll cry. He likes to tip the first domino, and watch them all fall.

A chaotic evil, if you will.

But Tanaka adores him- he adores his snappy words and his long limbs and his possessive behavior, because Tanaka isn’t all that different himself.

Believe it or not, Tsukishima adores him too- for if he didn’t he wouldn’t bother parading Tanaka around like a reward, hanging off his arm at school, looking at girls that pass by with a tipped head and a wide smirk. He loves to float across Tanaka’s shoulders, and speak in his ear and slide his fingers over the muscles of his stomach- he loves to coddle him in public, where everyone can see. He loves watching those mothers shoo their children away from them- those _gays._ He loves watching the waitress squirm as he looks at Tanaka, sultry, and seductive from across the table.

He does it, because he can, and he does it, because Tanaka lets him.

Tanaka could give less of a shit- he couldn’t care less if he made a mom upset or a waitress squirm or if the team thinks they’re strange or odd. He just doesn’t care; so he lets Tsukishima shoot glares and wiggle around him and pull his strings, simply, because it’s Tsukishima doing so.

* * *

 

He walks with his hands in his pockets.

They’re deep pockets, nice, and warm for the weather. Tsukishima can feel the lint between his fingers- he can feel the stitching at the bottom, and the single penny that never made it out alive.

The school is cold, but his hands are warm- his ears as well, protected by headphones. He walks, but the stares don’t catch him by surprise – the stares of other students, who gaze with eyes ridden with judgement and misunderstanding.

That’s fine. Tsukishima _likes_ it.

He looks to them – to that group of students huddled by the water fountain. He has the gall to smirk, and is just shy of delighted at the way their eyes flutter away.

Tsukishima knows his reputation by now – he has quite an impressive one. Good grades, a perfect record, a fantastic name for himself in the volleyball team, _and_ his all around aesthetically pleasing appearance.

But that’s not his reputation. His reputation is _this._

The big, round, bite marks that fall from the nape of his neck, down beneath his collar, shamelessly so. He could hide them, if he wants, but he doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t.

The eyes are back- Tsukishima tips his neck as he walks away, the bruises barring themselves to the world.

Let them stare and let them gawk, because Tsukishima has what he wants. He gets all the mind blowing wall sex he can possibly imagine – he gets to parade around with a guard dog at his feet – he gets to say what he wants, without fear of censoring his slippery tongue.

The eyes stare.

He walks with his hands in his pockets.

* * *

 

“I hate this shirt.” Tsukishima says, astride his lap, in Tanaka’s bedroom. “It’s ugly.”

“Aw man.” Tanaka laughs, “I liked this shirt though.”

“It’s horrible. Orange is out this season, you know.”

“I thought it was in?”

“That was _last_ season, moron.”

“Pff, like I would know.” Tanaka grins, his hands a warm, constant pressure on Tsukishima’s lower back.

Tsukishima states, plainly, “If I ever see you wear it again, I’m not going out in public with you.”

And for more than one reason, Tsukishima appreciates Tanaka’s personality.

He laughs off the insult, instead squeezing Tsukishima close to press a warm kiss to his sternum. Tsukishima lets himself smile – he lets himself slide down, their thighs pressing together, Tanaka’s mouth now hovering above his collarbone.

“Your breath smells horrible.”

Tanaka laughs, “Okay, I _know_ it doesn’t.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” Tsukishima flirts, his hands falling down around Tanaka’s pierced ears.

Tsukishima has dated people before, believe it or not. He’s dated girls, and guys, alike – they’ve all been dreadfully boring, and touchy beyond belief. Tsukishima had to walk on pins and needles – he had to keep his sharp tongue in check – he had to reel back the insults, and shave down his rough edges.

He hated it, really. His bluntness is a part of himself – it’s who Tsukishima is.

And that’s why Tanaka is fantastic in every way. He doesn’t ask Tsukishima to shave down his edges; instead he _begs_ them to grow. He takes every tongue lashing from Tsukishima and grins. He _loves_ his sharp tongue, and his rough words. He loves the insults, and the petty remarks, and the pokes and prods and every word in-between, because it’s _real._ It’s Tsukishima in his rawest form; no lies, no masks, no holding back.

Despite what they say, Tsukishima and Tanaka _are_ meant for each other in ways that simpletons cannot understand.

Tsukishima is lost in thought, he realizes, as Tanaka has already taken off his ugly shirt, and is licking up around the curve of Tsukishima’s shoulder.

“What is with your insistent need to take off your shirt all the time.” Tsukishima says, not really complaining, dragging his blunt fingernails down the swell of his barrel chest.

The elder smirks, “But I thought you _hated_ my shirt?”

“You’re right.” Tsukishima states, quickly, “Good boy, following instructions.”

Tanaka laughs, familiar, and giddy, and squeezes Tsukishima impossibly close, their bodies flushed together. He falls back, Tsukishima sliding with him, just as graceful as can be.

“Kiss me, oh moon prince.” Tanaka lays out against the floor, begging, and Tsukishima answers him.

* * *

 

“Ryuu.” Tsukishima examines his nails, “I’m hungry.”

“Me too man.” Tanaka rolls his shoulder, “You want me to get you something?”  

“Mmm, yes.” He smiles, draping himself across Tanaka’s shoulders – he can _feel_ Nishinoya’s stinkeye from across the club room. He grins, just to push his buttons, “A sandwich with no cheese, darling, love, _gorgeous, beautiful-“_

He hears Nishinoya make a gagging noise, and Tsukishima only grins wider.

Tanaka laughs heartily, before giving him a quick squeeze, and reaching for his backpack, “Alrighty. I’ll meet you at your house with food, then.”

Tsukishima gives him a wink, and throws his backpack over his arm as he does so. “I’ll be waiting.”

Nishinoya continues to stare, and stare, but Tsukishima could not give less of a damn. He simply summons his loyal Yamaguchi, and walks home, tired from practice, but smug nonetheless.

* * *

 

“Hey, man.” Nishinoya says, that next day, low, in the supply closet. “Can we talk?”

“Here?” Tanaka looks around them. The closet is dark, and smells like…mops.

“Yeah.” Nishinoya shifts on his feet. “Look, I…you…you’re my best friend, you know?”

Tanaka clutches his chest, “Aww, bro. You’re _my_ best friend.”

“Good.” Noya sighs, “And I care about you. A lot. And I want you to be happy. A lot.”

“Okay….?”

“I think Tsukishima is bad for you.” Nishinoya says in one breath.

“Uh,” Tanaka blinks, clutching the push broom, “what?”

“He’s _using_ you, Ryuu.”

Tanaka laughs, and sets the broom along with the others, wiping his hands on his gym shorts, “Yuu, you’re being silly.”

“I’m _serious._ ” He shifts on his feet, “I don’t think he actually cares about you.”

“No.” Tanaka turns, equally serious, “I know he does. Kei shows affection in different ways.”

“Like making you his errand boy?” Nishinoya spits.

Tanaka sighs, running a hand down his face, “You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Nishinoya crosses his arms, “I don’t want you to think Tsukishima is taking this relationship seriously, because he’s _obviously_ not.”

“What do you know?” Tanaka says, with no venom. “It’s just how _he_ is.”

“Exactly.” Nishinoya nods, “I…I’m worried he’ll hurt you.”

“He probably will.” Tanaka shrugs, “One day. But it’ll be my fault too, probably.”

“What-“

“Kei gets off on a lot of that stuff.” Tanaka dips his thumbs beneath the elastic of his shorts, and shrugs, “He likes to give me orders and see if I’ll do it, mostly in front of other people. It’s just a possessive thing, is all.”

“And you _go along with that?”_

 _“_ When I feel like it.” Tanaka grins, “I’m possessive too, ya’ know. And sometimes I tell him to get his head outta’ his ass, and then he’ll tell me to fuck off. It’s pretty romantic.”

“It’s toxic, is what it is.” Nishinoya stresses, “Ryuu, you can’t-“

“I can, and I will.” Tanaka opens the door to leave the supply closet, light dipping in through the crack, “I can take care of myself.”

Nishinoya opens his mouth, and then closes it, swallowing. He sighs, and looks away, “Yeah, okay.”

He gets a pat on the back before Tanaka is gone, already laughing with the first years.

* * *

 

“I heard your conversation with Nishinoya.” Tsukishima says the next day, half naked across his bed, because it’s hot as hell outside and there’s really no need to wear clothes in each other’s presence anyways.

At first Tanaka’s back straightens, his controller nearly slipping from his hand, but he pauses the game, and turns, grinning, “No ya’ didn’t.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Tsukishima says, slithering, coy, and sly, beneath Tanaka’s body weight. He bends his knees, and Tanaka settles in well between his legs, “But I know it doesn’t take ten minutes to put away one broom.”

“He thinks yer’ bad for me.” Tanaka states plainly, and falls to rest his cheek against Tsukishima’s stomach. It’s soft, and swoops up into his ribs, now lightly coated by muscle from practice.

“Mm.” Tsukishima hums, and is hardly surprised. “I am bad for you.”

“S’ not true.”

“Maybe.” Tsukishima thumbs across shaved hair, “But you’re _perfect_ for me.”

Tanaka looks up through his eyelashes, wiggling to see if Tsukishima is being serious or not. His eyes are gold, and reflective, specks of light catching across the irises, and Tanaka grins. He writhes, and speaks against Tsukishima’s bare stomach, “Good.”

He blows a raspberry into Tsukishima’s soft skin, and the latter lets out a bark of a laugh, squirming away, “ _Ryuu-_ “

Tanaka laughs, and blows another, and another, until Tsukishima locks his legs behind Tanaka’s back and flips them. He lets himself laugh, truly, actually happy behind these four closed walls.

Tanaka peers up at the smile that hovers above him, and returns the grin tenfold.

Tsukishima is beautiful in so many ways, foul personality and all.

But that coy, sly creature- the one that teases in public – the one that likes to pull strings – that’s _that_ Tsukishima.

And Tanaka loves him, just as much as this one.

 _This_ one. The real, true Tsukishima, in the silence of his bedroom, where he can smile and laugh.

Ever since Tanaka saw that laugh for real, one year ago, he made it his purpose in life to make him smile like that _every_ day.  So far he’s had a fairly good success rate.

Tanaka hooks his arms behind Tsukishima’s neck and tugs him down, licking into his mouth like he owns the place.

Because in a way, he does.

 

* * *

 

“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi smiles, “Are we walking home together today?”

“Yes.” He answers, “But I left my environmental textbook in class. You’ll wait for me?”

“Of course.” Yamaguchi nods, and leans up against the brick wall for emphasis.

Good, then.

Tsukishima walks calmly to the classroom, his fingers tangled behind his back. Tanaka had plans today, and that’s perfectly fine with him.

Tsukishima doesn’t need perfection; he doesn’t need him to walk him home every day. He doesn’t need an overemotional boyfriend that remembers their 4-month anniversary, and brings him roses on Valentine’s day. He doesn’t need Tanaka to remember his mom’s birthday, and he doesn’t need to spend every waking moment with him.

And for that, they’re perfect.

Tanaka had told him in solace one day – out of pure trust – his insecurities. Tsukishima had listened, fingers folded together calmly, as Tanaka stated his reasoning behind his failed relationships.

 _I’m not soft enough, I think._ Tanaka had said, _I’m not good boyfriend material. I forget a lot of shit, and I can be selfish, too._

Tsukishima had listened, and listened, until he said _I don’t need you to be._

“What?” Tanaka had looked up, eyes shimmery.

“A perfect boyfriend.” Tsukishima shrugged, popping another grape in his mouth for emphasis, “The concept of perfection is relative anyways.”

Tanaka had smiled so brilliantly that day. It’s a fond memory, in Tsukishima’s opinion.

Those who expect perfection from their lovers are foolish.

But, Tsukishima thinks, you must be a true moron to give up someone like Tanaka, just because he can’t remember a stupid date on the calendar.

A voice cuts through the abandoned school hallway; “ _Hey!”_

He doesn’t bother to turn, but another voice barks, “You! Gay dude!”

Oh, right. Him? The only gay male for miles, apparently. Boy o boy, would they be surprised to meet the rest of the volleyball team.

He turns despite his better judgment, and raises an eyebrow.

“Hey, hey.” The upperclassman grins, “Don’t get all huffy. _You’re_ the one who parades it around like a pride flag.”

“You’re right, I do.” Tsukishima goes to look through his bag, for something he knows isn’t there; “I think I might have one with me. The bisexual flag, you know, is pink, purple and blue. If you mashed them together, they look a little like that bruise you gave Yamaguchi last year, don’t you think?”

Tsukishima isn’t a fighter with fists – oh no, that’s Tanaka’s shtick. But manipulation is Tsukishima’s key offense, and he sure loves to whip it out like a sword.

The elders pause, looking to each other, unsure if Tsukishima is trying to appear threatening, or not. Tsukishima rummages, and rummages, but finds no flag. He shrugs for show, “Huh. I’m all outta’ gay today, boys. Sorry.”

“Listen, weirdo.” The leader steps up, “I have a deal I think you might be interested in.”

“Hm?” Tsukishima tips his head, hickeys on display, “And what’d that be?”

“We found your sex tape.” The shorter grins wickedly, “Of you and your gross boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima blinks.

“Yeah, I’m sure the teachers would like to find this baby.” The leader holds up a flash drive- the sunlight from the window catches the metal, and flickers with the turn of his hand. “I heard you’re good at English.”

“ _As good as a bastard with an American mother, I guess._ ” Tsukishima says, in perfect English.

“Ahh!” The third upperclassman grins, obviously not understanding a word, “That’s what I’m talking about. You do our homework all year, and we’ll make sure this drive doesn’t see the light of day.”

“Hmm….” Tsukishima folds his hands behind his back coly, and blinks, “Do you mind if I ask which one, first?”

“W-what?”

“Is it the one where Tanaka fucks me over the kitchen counter?” Tsukishima coos, “Or the one where I suck him off behind the Seven-Eleven?”

The bullies freeze, eyes widening, flickering between each other. The leader stutters, “Um-“

“Oh, oh.” Tsukishima grins, “I know, I bet it’s the one where he ties me up all pretty -“ he leans forwards, and pulls on the drawstring of the elder’s hoodie, “-you know, like a Celtic pretzel.”

“Dude.” The bully hisses, “F-fuck off-“

“Oh, sorry.” Tsukishima lifts his hand away, grinning, “It’s probably the one where he shoves an entire fist up my ass and covers me in Aunt Jemima maple syrup.”  

Their faces pale- and Tsukishima finally drops his grin. He shoves his hands back in his pockets, and hisses, low, “There’s no fucking sex tape, you shitstains. You think I wouldn’t know if Tanaka recorded us having sex? You’re a bunch of morons. Go fuck off before I get bored.”

Hilariously enough, the upperclassmen can’t leave quickly enough. The scatter away, fumbling down the hallway, and down the stairs.

Tsukishima now stands alone, rolling his eyes, and resuming his calm path towards his science room.

Morons. Calling him out on a sex tape as if Tsukishima has any shame.

Oh, and he’ll be sure to get back at them for that _‘gross boyfriend’_ comment, too.

* * *

 

“Ryuu, let’s record a sex tape.”

“What? Why?” Tanaka pops a cherry in his mouth, “You hate being on camera.”

“You’re right, but I think if we angle the camera just right,” Tsukishima raises his hands in a square, “I can get an hour of just your balls slapping against my ass.”

“Man, and I thought I was fuckin’ crude.” Tanaka laughs, his back against the arm rest of the couch. Tsukishima smirks, his head resting comfortably in the curve of Tanaka’s shoulder.

“Maybe we can shove a go-pro up my ass. That’d be a pretty cool sex tape.”

Tanaka giggles, like a child, “Oh yeah, now that would be sexy as hell.”

“You’re being sarcastic, but I’m serious.”  Tsukishima takes a cherry for himself, “Shove a flashlight up there too.”

“Pff, contrary to popular belief, your ass is not Mary Poppins’ bag.”

“That was a surprisingly sophisticated sentence for you, dear.”

“Thank you!” Tanaka grins and takes the backhanded compliment, fingers rising to prod through Tsukishima’s hair.

“Mmm.” Tsukishima hums; he turns his head into his touch, like a cat. Tanaka is more than happy to thread his fingers through his hair, until Tsukishima turns onto his stomach, and falls asleep like that, curled up on his chest.

“ _I’m ho-_ “ Saeko begins that night, as she throws open the door, but presses a hand to her mouth. Her brother sleeps with his mouth open, drooling, as his lover is curled up adorably on his chest.

She smiles, and is sure to take a picture for blackmail.

But rather than blackmail, it turns into Tsukishima’s lock screen.

* * *

 

Tsukishima holds Tanaka’s strings, yes. He commands him around in public – he holds his leash, like a dog.

But there are times where Tanaka twists, and rips out of those strings. He tears at clear fishing wire, ripping back control, leaping until he has Tsukishima’s collar beneath his fingertips, the latter on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

The times are rare and few in-between, but this is one of them.

“If you’re going dive for the ball, then dive for the ball.” Tsukishima glares, the first-year flinching under his gaze.

“S-sorry-“

“None of that half-assed bullshit.” He spits, “If you’re worried about a bruise or two, then you’re in the wrong club.”

The first-year flinches again, nodding solemnly.

“I think maybe the sewing club would be good for you.” Tsukishima sings, “Or perhaps, home ec? Photography might be a good one too.”

“N-no.” The first year shakes his head, “I want to stay here. I want to be on the lineup-“

“Well you’ll never make it with dives like that.” He says coolly, and instantly gains the attention of Tanaka, who was previously busy discussing plans with Ennoshita.

“I’m sorry, Tsukishima-senpai-“

“You’re not tall.” He states, obviously, “And you don’t have the receiving skills to be a libero. A wing spiker, no- a middle blocker, no-“

“Kei.” Tanaka warns, walking closer, as the first-year looks close to tears.

“And stop apologizing too-“

“Kei.” Tanaka hisses, rough, and callused, “That’s enough.”

Tsukishima freezes, blinks twice, and says nothing else.

“Apologize.” Tanaka spits.

The first year gasps, “N-no, it’s okay, I was-“ 

“Now.” Tanaka crosses his arms, his eyes dark with power. Tsukishima swallows once, before he looks down, and bows slightly.

“Sorry.”

The first year doesn’t know what to do, eyes blinking rapidly. “I-it’s okay, I-“

Tanaka slaps the first year on the back, and gives Tsukishima a final glare, before walking away with the other third years.

Tsukishima looks over the first year once, before slipping away to lick his wounds.

Tanaka never uses that tone – that rough, deep, commanding voice. It reels Tsukishima in like a fish, and cuts him open, past the joking nature, and down to his bone.

Later that afternoon he gets another scolding, as they walk home, hand in hand.

“You better watch your fuckin’ mouth with those first years.” Tanaka says low, and albeit sexy. 

Tsukishima rolls his eyes, “They can leave if they can’t take it.”

“They’re doin’ their best.”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Well, you, Hinata, and Kags have set the bar a little damn high, don’tcha’ think?”

“They can do better.”

“Stop bein’ an asshole.” Tanaka rips his hand out of Tsukishima’s, and glares, “You can be a shithead to everyone else, but leave those first years alone. You were one last year; don’t you remember?”

“Hn.” Tsukishima grits, and looks away, “Fine.”

Tsukishima holds his strings, yes, but only because Tanaka allows it so.

The hand comes back, snaking around his waist, and squeezing. Tsukishima leans into him, and lets a long arm curl around his shoulders, a silent promise being made to be less of a dickwad.

* * *

 

“What is she even wearing?” Tsukishima sips his lemonade, “It looks like she stole a six-dollar shirt from Goodwill and tried to pass it off as a scarf.”

“Pfff.” Tanaka laughs, and dips his fry in some ketchup, “You see, the shirt-scarf isn’t so much bothering me, more than the crocs.”

“Oh hell, look at that guy.” Tsukishima turns his attention away, but Tanaka immediately knows who he’s talking about.

“Aaha, this bro is really rockin’ those weed socks and sandals.”

“Fuck, I can smell the fraternity on him.” Tsukishima sips his lemonade once more. They sit amid the mall food court, talking shit like the shit talkers they are. It’s relatively fun – Tsukishima gets to curl up at his side, and coo in Tanaka’s ear; oh how he loves to watch those shoppers squirm. Public displays of affection make people more uncomfortable than anything else, and it’s hilarious.

“Wow.” Tsukishima rests his forearm on Tanaka’s shoulder, and shifts closer, “That lady is wearing at least six different brand names.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Tanaka laughs, “Do you want people to wear name brands? Or clothes from Goodwill? Make up your mind.”

“Neither.” Tsukishima bristles, “Or both. God, just don’t mix a Coco Chanel jacket with a Versace pant suit.”

Tanaka laughs, and adjusts his snapback, “I’m jus’ gonna’ pretend I know what you’re talkin’ about.”

“It’s like buying a Bentley, ripping out the interior, and replacing it with the seats from a Jag.”

“Well, that don’t make sense.”

“Exactly.” Tsukishima crosses his legs, and leans closer into Tanaka’s space. There’s an especially flirty girl giving Tanaka these googly eyes, and he doesn’t like it at all.

“You’re so good at reading people.” Tanaka compliments with a laugh, “Quick-“ he gestures with a nod, “-drag that guy over there.”

Tsukishima looks him over once, and snorts, “He’s talking through a Bluetooth earpiece. He probably goes golfing on the weekends with his Hunchback of Notre Dame cabby, and cheats on his wife afterwards just for fun. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s wearing Lululemon yoga pants under those mustard-stained khakis.”

Tanaka lets out a cackle, his head bumping against Tsukishima’s, nudging his hat sideways a little, “Wow, Tsukki.”

“I’m serious.” He sips, “Who the fuck uses a Bluetooth earpiece? It’s not 2005 anymore.”

“God, I love you.” Tanaka grins, squishing over to press a kiss against Tsukishima’s cheek.

He pretends to be indifferent, but looks to that flirty girl across the food court, and smirks.

* * *

 

“Oh fuck.” Tsukishima coos, his hands tied to the headboard, his knees spread wide. The room is warm, but Tanaka’s cracked window feeds in cool air.

“Louder.”

“Make me.”

Tanaka twists his fingers just right, and Tsukishima keens, the back of his head rubbing against the sheets as his head tips back, “ _Oh fuck!”_

“Mm, _louder._ ” Tanaka grins, and prods in a third finger, knowing he can take it. Tsukishima gasps loudly, and digs his heels into the sheets for leverage.

Tanaka eyes his legs- eyes the long curves of smooth skin- he looks across his knees, lightly covered in stretch marks, and eyes the inside of his thighs, strong from practice.

Tanaka smirks, and reaches with his free hand to grip Tsukishima’s ankle and pull, yanking him off balance. Tsukishima gasps, his body thumping back to the bed, his left leg being forced up over Tanaka's shoulder.

“Oooh yes.” Tsukishima grins, eyes falling shut, “ _More,_ baby _more._ ” 

Tsukishima is so sly, and coy- Tanaka may seem in charge, but it’s still Tsukishima who pulls the strings. He _wants_ his hands tied. He _wants_ that low, commanding tone. He wants it all, of course.

Tanaka thought Tsukishima would be quiet in bed; but through experience, he’s found it to be quite the opposite.

Tsukishima loves shittalking, so it’s only natural that he _adores_ the dirty talk. Tsukishima gargles constant nonsense, just to prod Tanaka on; just to taunt him, and pull his strings.

Tanaka doesn’t mind.

He pulls out his fingers momentarily, just to kiss at Tsukishima’s sweet bottom lip. The latter, of course, kisses back, lazily, begging Tanaka to do all the work. Tanaka is more than happy to, licking across his tongue and his teeth, before pulling back, and leaning onto his knees once more.

His fingers move again in a consistent pace, stretching and moving just to watch Tsukishima squirm, and feel him flex around his fingers. Tanaka watches his back arch; he feels the leg squeeze against his shoulder, and he grins.

Tanaka suddenly pauses, and pulls his fingers out, so, so slow, squishing against the lube. Tsukishima lets out a frustrated groan, and bumps his knee against Tanaka’s ear, “ _Ryuuuu-“_

“Are you below begging?” Tanaka beams, and turns his head to nip at the skin above Tsukishima's knee.

“Of course not.” Tsukishima looks up through his eyelashes, his skin flushed, his cock hard against his hip, occasionally twitching with interest. Tsukishima flirts, his wrists twisting above his head, “Fuck me you dickwad. _Fuck me,_ fuck me fuck me fuck me-“

Tsukishima's body runs hot, Tanaka’s fingers barely moving.  Still, through the teasing, Tsukishima can only feel adoration in his chest, mixing like paint with desire. Tanaka is impossibly sexy above him, shirt gone, of course, and his jeans pushed down low off his hips. Fuck him, and that muscular V that dips below the elastic of his underwear. 

Tanaka laughs, and pulls his fingers out all the way, now dragging along the skin of his inner thigh. “Say please.”

“I have to use manners now?” Tsukishima raises an eyebrow. He then replies in a fairly good British accent, “Oh, my princely boyfriend, _please_ fill me up with your hard cock. I wanna’ feel it in my stomach, good sir-“

He’s cut off by Tanaka’s laugh, and then rough, strong hands pressing into his chest and flipping him. The movement winds him, his voice falling off into a low moan as his hands pull against the bindings, and his forehead presses into the sheets.

He can feel Tanaka’s cock drag against his ass, and he keens, legs spreading to accommodate him between them.

“You’re eager.” Tanaka grins, leaning forwards to mouth against his shoulder blades, before shifting back on his knees to cap open the lube. 

“Yes, yes yes.” He grins, “Ryuu, _Ryuu,_ I’m so-“

Tanaka enjoys, more than anything, catching Tsukishima off guard. The times are few and rare, so he can’t help the satisfactory feeling in his chest as soon as he slams in, balls deep, as Tsukishima is mid-sentence.

“ _Fuuuuuuck._ ” The taller grits, in English, drooling off into gurgly nonsense. Tanaka breathes in, and closes his eyes in hopes of composure. He presses his hand against the small of Tsukishima’s back, and pushes his hands upwards, combing up his spine, and resting at his neck. He squeezes slightly around his throat, just for fun, and _feels_ Tsukishima clench around him.

Tanaka laughs, and drags his hand back down his spine, and around to his stomach. He presses his fingers into the curve of his belly, and grins, “Am I here?”

“ _Oh my god, yes._ ”

Tanaka can’t resist a smile, and can’t resist staying still. He grips onto those slender hips hard enough to bruise, and pulls back, just to slam back in.

Tsukishima pulls against the bindings and drools into the pillow, meeting Tanaka thrust for thrust, letting out whatever noise may build in his throat. Tanaka’s noises are shallow, and low, but it spurs Tsukishima on, mantras of _yes yes, so good, yes, harder, more, deeper-_

Tanaka knows exactly what to do, by now. They’re practiced and knowing – they know boundary lines, and safe words, hot spots, and pressure points.

Tanaka lets his weight fall forward, a hand bracing against the headboard, and leans across Tsukishima’s long and pliant body to bite against the back of his neck.

And Tsukishima, the coy, sly incubus, arches into him like it’s muscle memory, moaning as his cock drags against the sheets.

Their sounds are half muffled, and wet, thighs meeting thighs, their breaths becoming mixed in harmonious pants. They fall into a rhythm, this doggy style sex so lewd, but so easy. It takes time, but Tsukishima slowly starts to break; his pleas becoming less fake- his begging turning raw with actual need. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead - those glasses gone, somewhere, with his dignity probably. With each thrust- hairpull- bite- gasp- Tanaka picks at Tsukishima's rocky exterior. With every bruise on his hips, and every lewd slap of skin- 

Tanaka, in turn, weaves strings into Tsukishima. 

“I need, I need-“ Tsukishima pants in English, at first, then in Japanese, “Ryuunosuke I _need-_ “

“No.” Tanaka thrusts hard, “You’ll come like this.”

Tsukishima whines, needy, and demanding, his hands pulling hard enough to make the bindings groan, “ _Ryuu please._ ”

“You can do it.”

“I can’t-“

“You can.” Tanaka coos, low, in his ear, and chomps down on the juncture of his shoulder. It’s always a pleasure to break Tsukishima down, past his walls, past his teasing nature, and down to his bone. _Only_ Tanaka has the power to do that; he doesn’t abuse it, but he sure does relish in it, oh-so maliciously.

Tsukishima sobs as his body tenses, almost there, but not quite. He grinds down against the sheets, and Tanaka pulls back, robbint Tsukishima of friction, and propping him up on his knees.

“Nice try.”

“I hate you.” He spits, his eyes watering over with every thrust, “I fucking hate you. Asshole. Pompous dickface. Self centered, narcissistic-" 

“Rude.” Tanaka jokes, despite the strain in his voice. His own stomach is coiling, and turning, his sanity barely holding on by a thread.

Tsukishima’s knees slide against the sheets with every thrust, his mouth running a marathon of pleas, his body almost aching from being so, _so, so goddamn close,_ but Tanaka continues to thrust, just to see how long Tsukishima can hold on.

“I’m going to-“ Tsukishima pants, “-fucking, kill you-“

“How?” Tanaka grins, “You’re all tied up, baby.”

Tsukishima groans, his back pulling tight like a bowstring- and Tanaka thrusts just right, _just, just_ right, and the hands on his hips squeeze, and fuck, fuck-

Tsukishima lets out the filthiest noise Tanaka has ever heard, before his body seizes in Tanaka’s hands, wrists pulling impossibly tight against the headboard. Tanaka gasps, because Tsukishima still has half the mind to clench around him like he’s squeezing a goddamn lemon- but he doesn’t complain, because Tsukishima is ridiculously beautiful, his body moving beyond his control.

“ _Shit._ ” He chants in English, “ _Fuck, Ryuu._ ”

“I know those words.” Tanaka grins, “That’s the only English I know, actually.”

Tsukishima snorts, his body still lightly trembling. Tanaka goes to move backwards, and Tsukishima bites down on his lip, another flash of light flickering across his eyes.

“Sorry.” Tanaka pauses, “Good?”

“Yeah.” Tsukishima wiggles, after a moment, “Flip me.”

Tanaka pulls out, outrageously hard still, and uses his strength to flip Tsukishima onto his back. His eyes are full of honey, sweet, after nearly coming into the next century- his hair is tussled, but pretty nonetheless.

“There we go.” Tsukishima wiggles down, as if settling in for a good movie, “Fill me up.”

Tanaka's mouth falls open, before he tips his head back and groans, loud, and overdramatic, before he slams back in, bending Tsukishima’s body to kiss him long and hard.

* * *

They fall asleep together that night, Tanaka kicking in his sleep, and Tsukishima hogging all the covers. 

Just as they always do. 

* * *

 

“Tsukki?”

Yamaguchi looks up one day, as they walk home.

“Hn?”

“I have a question.”

“Well I have an answer, probably.” Tsukishima slides down his headphones, and looks down to the shorter. Yamaguchi is still soft spoken, and kind, but has grown braver in the past year. He might be slightly irritating sometimes, but he’s still Tsukishima’s best friend.

“Are you toying with Tanaka-san?”

Tsukishima blinks, “As in?”

“Is your relationship a game?” Yamaguchi looks up, eyes unwavering, “Because Tanaka-san seems to take it pretty seriously.”

“I do believe that’s none of your business, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima curls his hands behind his back.

“Right.” Yamaguchi eyes him warily, and looks away.

“What? Afraid I’ll break your senpai?”

“Maybe.” Yamaguchi looks up, “You can be pretty cruel, Tsukki.”

“Mm.” Tsukishima agrees, because it’s true. But Yamaguchi is a fool – Tsukishima adores Tanaka, and that should be painfully obvious, in his gestures and coddling.

Yamaguchi is otherwise silent but Tsukishima almost wishes he’d talk.

* * *

 

Tanaka comes over on weekends, sometimes, when they feel like hanging out. Today he gets a _can I come by? –_ text around ten in the morning, and Tsukishima texts back _sure,_ still shoving half a bagel down his throat like the bagel-slut he is.

He’s just out of the shower when the knock comes. He ruffles his hair with the towel, half dressed as he answers the door.

The _last_ thing he expects is to see Tanaka sniffling, the heel of his hand digging into his right eye, trying to rub away the redness there. Something in Tsukishima lurches, horribly, the snarky comment dying on his tongue.

“Ryuu?”

“Sorry.” He snivels, rubbing at his nose, trying to smile, “Hi babe.”

“Fuck, get in here.” Tsukishima grips him by the shirt, and hauls him past the door, slamming it shut, “Are you okay?”

He sniffs, his nose red, just like his eyes. “Just a fight with my dad. Had to get out of the house.”

Tsukishima swallows around cotton, his throat tight. Tanaka is _his –_ his to protect, and his to parade around. His heart thumps too loudly, because genuine comfort isn’t Tsukishima’s forte, but he wants to make Tanaka better.

Instead his mouth says, “You look pathetic. Stop crying.”

Tanaka just blinks, before he laughs – but he cries more. Water dribbles across his cheeks, smearing as he wipes them with the sleeve of his shirt, desperately. “I know.”

And Tsukishima genuinely feels like shit, because that meant to come out much nicer than it did. He pinches Tanaka’s nose, and the latter gasps.

“Stop.” Tsukishima says, his voice wavering, “Stop, stop.”

He releases his nose and pulls Tanaka in, still by the doorway, Tsukishima still without a shirt, the towel dropped to the floor.

Tanaka sucks in a wet breath and holds him tight, muttering another apology that Tsukishima doesn’t care for.

“Are you hurt?” Tsukishima finally asks, in genuine concern.

“No.” He mumbles, “Saeko would never let him.”

“Good.” Tsukishima tugs back, “Neither would I. You hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s tough shit, because the only thing in our fridge right now is half a stick of butter and some Gogurt.” Tsukishima leads him by the hand towards his room, “We can probably order pizza, though.”

Tanaka smiles, and wipes away the last of his tears, “That sounds good to me.” He sits on the edge of Tsukishima’s bed as the younger orders through the phone, his tone bored, but his eyes bright, scanning over Tanaka’s body.

Tanaka smiles, and flops back on his bed, the pit in his stomach fading away.

Tsukishima understands him in ways other people don’t – the bluntness of his words cutting through without fake sympathy to hide apathy.

The pizza comes, and Tsukishima sits on Tanaka's lap as he eats, doodling flowers on his left arm.

* * *

 

A pool party, Nishinoya had decided, was a good idea to celebrate going to Nationals again this year.

It’s warm out, but the community pool keeps them cool.

Tsukishima rests on the same lawn chair as Tanaka, the two curled together like usual. They’re always touching, it seems, cuddled together just to show off. The team is used to it by now, and if anything, they expect it.

Karasuno splashes around, shooting squirt guns and skidding along slippery ground, much to Takeda-sensei’s complaints.

Tsukishima grows bored under the shade of the umbrella, and turns to whisper in Tanaka’s ear, “You’re the hottest one here, you know.”

“Me?” Tanaka fakes innocence, “There’s a lotta’ nice asses here, Tsukki. I wouldn’t limit your options.”

“Mmm, god no. You’re the only one strong enough to lift me and fuck me against a wall.” Tsukishima coos, his mouth pressed against his ear.

Tanaka gives a single shiver, but dating Tsukishima has built up his stamina, somewhat. He retorts, “I think Kags could, if he wanted.”

“Kageyama has fake boy strength.” Tsukishima huffs, “He could carry a box for his grandma, and that’s about it. I’m talking about _real_ man strength.” Tsukishima’s thumb presses into the vein of Tanaka’s arm, “The kinda’ shit that gives you wet dreams.”

“Oh, like when Captain America splits open that firewood with his bare hands?”

“Fuck yeah. If you ever did that I’d immediately come in my pants.”

Tanaka barks out a laugh, shoulders shaking. His body twists to meet Tsukishima’s eye, “Now that I’d like to see.”

“Mm.” Tsukishima purrs, eyeing the other third years from across the pool. He mumbles in Tanaka’s ear, “So what are we going to do after this?”

“Go back to my place and fuck, probably.”

“Nnn, tell me about it.”

“Well the house’ll be empty.” Tanaka says shamelessly, “We can do it wherever you want.”

Tsukishima seems to think long and hard about that, his hands dipping down the honey-warm skin of Tanaka’s left arm. He hums, “Do you think you can hold me up in the shower?”

“I could try, but ya’ might slip.”

“Hn.”

“I was thinkin’ I could tie you up super pretty.” Tanaka grins. “Leave you like that for a while, maybe.”

“Okay,” Tsukishima purrs, “As long as you let me choke on your dick.”

Tanaka snickers, because really, he’s met his match with Tsukishima. There’s no boundary- no line to cross, when it comes to dirty talk and crude language. Tanaka can spit out filth, and Tsukishima will gargle it right back.

“Hey Ryuu!” Nishinoya calls from across the pool, “Come here! We’re having a chicken fight!”

“Oh!” Tanaka sits up, “I gotchu’ bro!”

“Hell yeah!”

Tsukishima gives him a gentle prod on the back, before Tanaka scurries away, gone with his friends.

He curls back up in the lawn chair and watches Tanaka only, captivated until Yamaguchi comes by to keep him company.

* * *

 

“I’m gonna’ graduate soon.”

The words ring heavy against the tiled walls of the bathroom. Tsukishima slides up against the bath tub, bringing his knees up- the bath tub isn’t long enough for him to extend his legs, of course, but Tanaka manages to fit between them.

Tsukishima swallows, “Obviously.”

Tanaka twists, leaning up to look Tsukishima in the eye, “We should talk, probably.”

“No.”

“We need to.”

“Since when did you become responsible?”

“Since now.” Tanaka shifts, the bubbles popping, the water warm. “I need to know.”

“Know what?”

“If you…” Tanaka furrows his eyebrows together, and avoids eye contact, “If....you want to keep dating. If you actually love me."

Tsukishima’s eyes widen, and without his glasses, Tanaka is almost fuzzy- still he sees the worried tug of his bottom lip against his teeth, and the matte gloss across his eyes.

“Idiot.” Tsukishima spits, “You think I don’t love you?”

“Well it’s hard to know sometimes, okay?” Tanaka growls, “You never say it.”

“I didn’t think I had to.”

“You _don’t,_ I just- agh!” Tanaka squirms back, huffing, water dripping down the muscles of his stomach, “It’d be nice to get a little validation.”

“Get back here.” Tsukishima grits, and tugs Tanaka flushes against his chest once more, his knees locking him in place, “You’re fucking dumb.”

“Shut up!”

Tsukishima takes a deep breath- apparently they’re having this conversation here, of all places.

“Of course I want to date you still.” Tsukishima’s voice drops low into genuine territory, the teasing filter dissipating, “Of course I love you.”

He can feel Tanaka’s breathing falter. He chokes, “But-“

“I mean, at first, when you asked me out, I was just playing with you.” Tsukishima says, brutally honest, “It was just for fun, ‘cause I was bored, I guess. I think you knew that, though.” He brings his hand to stroke across the metal of Tanaka’s right ear, ghosting across a few helix piercings, “But now, you’re such a constant in my life. I don’t think I’ll ever find someone else to tolerate my shit personality.”

“I love your shit personality.”

“I rest my case.” Tsukishima says, and bumps his knee against Tanaka’s hip, “Don’t ask stupid questions like that.”

There’s an underlying tone to that sentence, though – a feeling that Tanaka picks up immediately.

Surprisingly enough, Tsukishima voices it aloud.

“My love for you is unwavering, Ryuunosuke.”

There’s a pause.

Tanaka’s smile splits across his face as he rises on his knees, slippery, and soft, as he leans up to brace Tsukishima’s face between his hands. The water sloshes around them, slipping as Tanaka presses his lips firm and smooth against Tsukishima’s. Their kiss is slow, and soft, languid and warm and wet, and everything that makes kissing awesome.

Tsukishima rests his hands in the curve of Tanaka’s hips, just to keep him from slipping – but a part of Tsukishima does it for himself too, to keep _himself_ grounded.

His heart pounds lightly in his chest, for it’s not often that he so blatantly says how he really feels. Slowly the pounding fades, replaced by warm, sloshy affection. They break with each kiss, sucking in air through their noses, teeth catching on bottom lips. Tanaka’s tongue traces across the roof of Tsukishima’s mouth, and the younger shivers, cooing, “Nnn- _yes-_ “

Tanaka grins against his mouth, kisses him twice more, and then presses a soppy kiss against his cheek. “Don’t leave me.”

“I can’t.” Tsukishima answers in full honesty.

He really can’t. They’re together, now. Two cogs that fit, churning along, seeking comfort and guidance and strength from the other.

* * *

 

Tanaka graduates. Tanaka chooses a university nearby.

It’s cheaper this way; there’s no moving, no rent, no need for a second job. It works out fine – even if Tsukishima would rather he live with someone other than his dad.

But in a way, he does; he spends the majority of his time at Tsukishima’s home, nearly adopted by his mother. It’s wonderful in its own way, and a big fuck-you to all those who thought their relationship wouldn’t last more than a year.

“Kei.” His mother smiles, behind the stove, “Is Ryuunosuke coming over today?”

“Just assume the answer is always yes.” He replies, drawing circles in his soup with his spoon.

“Okay.” She smiles, and turns back to the stove.

Tsukishima never came out to his family; he just brought home a guy one day, as if it was the girl he dated the week before.

Akiteru didn’t have to come out as straight, so why should Tsukishima go through any extra effort?

“I’m going on that business trip this weekend, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Would it be too much to ask Ryuunosuke to stay here with you?” She turns, “I’d feel a lot better knowing you’re not home alone.”

Tsukishima smirks, “You trust me? What if we throw a massive house party?”

“You’re almost eighteen.” She laughs, “If I can’t trust you now, I might as well never.” His mother pauses, and then laughs again, “Neither of you will leave the house anyways. You'll just order pizza and watch the Discovery channel." 

“Ah, you know us so well, mother.”

She smiles, and returns back to the sink, wiping her skilled hands on the kitchen towel.

* * *

 

“Okay, so,” Tanaka begins, laying on his back, halfway falling off the couch, “what is the ugliest word you can think of?”

“Uh,” Nishinoya blinks, “moist.”

“Ballsack.” Tsukishima coos.

“Oh man, I was gonna’ say butthole.” Tanaka laughs.

“What?” Tsukishima sits up off the carpet, “Butthole is a great word.”

“I agree.” Nishinoya laughs, “It’s sharp and to the point.”

“Why am I here?” Yamaguchi pipes, suddenly, from the floor. They’re in Tsukishima’s living room, the stereo playing white noise.

“Because you have nothing better to do.” Tsukishima answers curtly, “Now give us an ugly word.”

“Um,” Yamaguchi hesitates, and then states, “regurgitate.”

Tanaka gasps, “Ooh, that’s a good one.”

 “Is this what it’s like hanging out with you two all the time?” Yamaguchi smiles, “This is ridiculous.”

“Yep.” Nishinoya sips his drink like a man who’s seen too much. “You learn to roll with it.”

“Apparently.” Yamaguchi laughs, rolling over onto his stomach, and looking up at Tsukishima, who’s happily curled up in Tanaka’s side. “Are we watching a scary movie tonight?”

“Oh! Please!”

As they settle down, with bowls of popcorn and soda, it’s Yamaguchi who leans over to whisper, _do you still think they’re bad for each other?_

Nishinoya pauses, his hand halfway in the bowl, before he looks up and smirks, _nah._

* * *

 

On Tsukishima’s 18th birthday, there’s hardly a celebration. Tsukishima doesn’t want it, really. Yamaguchi gives him a present, but that’s to be expected.  

 

 

* * *

 

Tanaka forgets Valentine’s day this year, but that’s fine. Tsukishima is _ecstatic_ to give him the world’s best blowjob, and watch him scratch his head for weeks wondering why he got such special treatment.

It’s not until March that Tanaka bursts through Tsukishima’s front door (he’s got a spare key, by now), and gasps, “Valentine’s day! It was fucking Valentine’s day!”

Tsukishima pauses, halfway over the stove, boiling pasta. He turns with a smirk, and leans against the countertop, “Figured it out, I see.”

“Goddamn!” Tanaka yells, “I was so stumped!”

“Why?” Tsukishima coos, “Maybe I just did it because I wanted to.”

“Pff.” Tanaka sputters, “That wasn’t no real-quick-BJ-behind-the-Applebee’s kind of blowjob. That was like, the end all, _be all,_ of blowjobs. I couldn’t figure out what the hell I did.”

Tsukishima snorts, and turns back around to stir his pasta, “You’re lucky mom isn’t home.”

“Man, Tsukki.” Tanaka sighs, closing the door behind him, “I’m so sorry.”

“For forgetting? I don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but like,” he shifts on his feet, “I dunno’. I would’ve gotten you something.”

“I don’t need anything.” Tsukishima lifts the pot, and grabs a strainer, walking to the sink. “If I wanted you to remember a stupid date, I would’ve reminded you.”

Tanaka pauses, still by the door. He shoves his hands in his pockets, and his mouth tugs into a smile.

Tsukishima is changing; the spitfire is still there- his coddling, his love to control and pull strings- it still exists, but, Tsukishima is changing.

He’s becoming more genuine.

Tanaka likes to think that’s his doing, maybe.

“So whatcha’ making?”

“Tortilini.” Tsukishima strains out the pasta, and lifts it up for emphasis, “Want some?”

Yes, more genuine indeed.

“Hell yeah.” Tanaka grins, “But tonight I’m taking you out for a super awesome post-Valentine’s Day- date.”

Tsukishima’s eyes glint behind his glasses, and he teases, “I only accept ridiculously expensive Restaurants as post-Valentine dates.”

“Good thing I have a job then.”

* * *

 

Time passes, as you know. It’s inevitable and unstoppable, just as aging always is.

They lay together, lazily one Sunday afternoon. It’s a little cold, but their bodies squish together just like they always have.

Tsukishima grips Tanaka’s fingers between his own; he opens his fingers, and digs his thumbs gently into the palm of Tanaka’s hand. Tsukishima’s fingernails span upwards, drawing his nails up and over the strength in Tanaka’s hand. He appears bored, but remains silent, uncharacteristically so.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tanaka prods, shifting a knee between Tsukishima’s thighs. He presses in close, Tsukishima’s long body draped across the bed.

“We should just get married.” Tsukishima decides, “Just say fuck the system, you know?”

“We’re too young, probably.”

“Only a minor setback.”

“20 and 21?” Tanaka laughs against the back of his neck, “That’s pretty young.”

“Hey, you’ve got to give me something to look forward to,” Tsukishima says, “considering that I am no longer seventeen and henceforth no longer the dancing queen.”

Tanaka barks out a laugh, and Tsukishima twists in his arms, their noses pressing together.

“Your breath smells bad.”

“I _know_ it doesn’t.” Tanaka grins, a line of banter once said back in highschool. “I just brushed them.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” Tsukishima smirks, and hooks a leg over his hip, dragging Tanaka closer against him, pressing their mouths together firmly.

The kiss is brief, but only because Tanaka begins to laugh halfway through, forcing Tsukishima to wiggle back on the pillows and glare.

“What?”

“Nothing~.” Tanaka sings, “You’re cute.”

“Me?” Tsukishima looks up at him, without the barrier of glasses, “I already knew that.”

Tanaka can’t help but laugh, wiggling a hand between them to pinch at his belly, where his shirt has ridden up. “You better watch that attitude, young man.”

“You love my attitude.”

“Damn straight.”

“Anything but.” Tsukishima smirks, reaching up to pinch Tanaka’s nose. Tanaka snorts out a gasp, and Tsukishima laughs, releasing his nose.

“Hey!” Tanaka laughs too, “Some kind of marriage proposal this is.”

“You want me on my knees?”

“No.” Tanaka snorts, and then blinks, “Wait, _yes._ ” He can feel Tsukishima’s smirk, more than see it, and he laughs, almost embarrassed, “What’s the deal with that, anyways? Didn’t think you were a big fan of commitment.”

“M’ not really.” Tsukishima coos, “But I want that ring on your finger, so all those girls at the bar can go ahead and fuck right off.”

Tanaka sputters out a laugh, “You jealous bitch.”

“Yep.” Tsukishima agrees, speaking against Tanakas throat now, “I want you to be mine, on paper, legally until we die.”

“Aww, that was almost romantic, Tsukki~.”

“It’s an investment.” Tsukishima states, “I fork over the money for a ring now, and then I get all the sex in the world, later.”

“You can have that now, you know.”

“Yes, but I want it on _paper,_ darling.”

“We don’t have the money for any of that though.” Tanaka laughs, “Can’t you be patient?”

Tsukishima huffs against his neck, “Have you met me?”

“Tattoos, then.” Tanaka suggests, “Cheaper than a ring, more like a promise, yeah?”

There’s a long, long silence. Tanaka can almost hear the fans whirring down the hallway. 

Tsukishima suddenly nips at the curve of his naked shoulder, and says, “We go tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, they _don’t_ get married, legally, anyways, but they do get bands tattooed around their ring fingers, a promise of what’s to come.

It’s perfect, in their own, oddly nontraditional way.

They’ve never _been_ traditional. They’ve never been your stereotypical couple.

They’re an unhealthy relationship to the world – all sharp words and flirty masks -  but in reality, they’re the healthiest of them all. They function in their _own_ way, in the way they were always meant to be.

The two cogs that fit; the shaved down edges that grew; the strings, the strings, the strings.

All the strings, now, woven together.

Tsukishima holds Tanaka’s strings.

But now, Tanaka holds _his_ too.

They pull and tug and prod each other, they move in sync, a duo that shouldn’t fit so well, but do anyways; a true lock and key.

Ah, well, fuck the world and what they say, anyways.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on [tumblr](http://zanimez.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  


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